Birthday Blues
by legalliz
Summary: Birthdays don't always go as planned...especially if your name happens to be Stephanie Plum.


"Wow. Things aren't looking too bad today," I thought to myself as I shoved Big Nate into the back of my outdated, but thankfully running, rusty jeep.

Actually, compared to a number of other days on the job, today had been an overall success. I was fully clothed without any food or garbage plastered to my body, my pants were unripped, and aside from a stubbed toe from walking into my doorjamb this morning, I was injury free. _And_ I'd managed to bring in not one but _two_ FTA's. I gave myself a mental pat on the back.

My name is Stephanie Plum, and I'm a fugitive apprehension agent. That's code for bounty hunter for those of you who get distracted by big words. It wasn't exactly a _chosen_ profession considering I've got average looks, average height, and average musculature for a woman of my age. You really should only choose a profession like this if you've got Arnold Schwarzenegger physique, rippling pectorals, and a death stare that can make people wet themselves. That way no one even thinks to give you the runaround when you try to apprehend them. But extenuating circumstances kind of forced my hand on this whole career thing. Little things like my super informing me that I was days away from potential eviction and a visa bill that had more zeroes than a computer's binary code.

But good news! I'll survive another bill cycle because there are now _two_ body receipts that I can cash to appease my landlord and bill collectors. Like I said, not exactly a bad day on the job.

Except here's the thing. Today just so happens to be my birthday. And unlike other people my age who pretend that they no longer have birthdays to avoid creeping closer to those big milestones like the infamous 4-0, I actually love birthdays. They encompass all the best things in life like friends, parties, presents, and my very personal favorite, cake. I mean, seriously, what's not to like about birthdays?

Well, I'll tell you what's not to like about birthdays. The fact that sometimes people forget when you have them. Which suddenly means no friends, no parties, no presents, and no cake. Unless you go and buy one for yourself. But that is beyond lame.

Unfortunately, I _could_ have had a delicious homemade cake waiting for me at my parents' place, but I kind of told my mom that I already had plans. I guess the assessment was a little premature. It was more that I was _hoping_ I'd have plans. And who knows? Maybe I would. After all, the day was still young. I glanced at my watch. Well, young-ish.

I dropped Big Nate by the police station and shot the breeze with a few of my friends. Big surprise, not _one_ happy birthday. Not even from good ole Joe Morelli who spent the last several years dating me. Yeah, yeah, I know it was kind of an off and on thing we had going, but I'm sure there must have been at least one or two birthdays buried in there somewhere. Point is, he _should_ have remembered. Even if we were no longer sharing space.

"Hey Cupcake," he said with a friendly smile as I stepped into his office. "Sounds like you had a pretty good day on the job."

I shrugged. "Yeah, not bad."

He shuffled some papers. "You need something?

Um, yeah! I need _someone_ to remember my birthday. I stared at him blankly for a moment hoping he'd be able to read my mind. He just stared back clueless, waiting for me to continue. I decided I wasn't in the mood to spell it out for him. "Nah. Just stopping by to say hi. How's Bob?"

"Living the good life. Barking at his shadow, digging up the yard, eating underwear. You know, the usual."

"That's good. And how 'bout you? What's new in the life of Joe Morelli?"

"Not a whole lot really. Work's been busy. There's some talk of a possible promotion, but I'll believe it when I see it."

"That's really great, Joe. I'm sure it's more than just talk. If anyone deserves it, it's you."

"Thanks, Cupcake." He gave me a quick assessing glance. "You sure you don't need something?"

I tried the whole mind thing again, but it was no use. "Yeah," I almost sighed.

He reached into his side drawer and tossed me something. It was a snickers. "Looks like you could use this today. Hope it cheers you up."

It was _almost_ a present. "Thanks," I said as I headed for the door. "Good luck with the job, Joe. Guess I'll see ya around."

"Later, Cupcake."

I headed back to the bonds office to get my checks from the office receptionist, Connie. She was busy perusing the gossip in People Magazine while simultaneously working on her manicure. I sat on the edge of her desk and ate my snickers.

"You busy tonight, Connie?" I asked between bites.

"Got a family gathering of sorts. Why do you ask?" She held back her hand to admire the perfect curves of her nails.

"No reason," I sighed. Sheesh! What's a girl got to do around here to make people remember her birthday? Maybe I'll have to buy some billboard space next year… "Lula still in Atlantic City?"

"Far as I know. That blind date must have gone pretty well considering it started three days ago."

Despite my obvious birthday dilemma, I felt myself smile. Lula wasn't nearly as picky with men as I was. If he had a pulse, bedroom eyes, and stamina, she'd give him a shot. Guess all that guilt stuff didn't get to her like it always did with me.

"Good for her," I said. I licked the residual chocolate off my fingers and hopped off the desk after collecting my checks. "Have fun with the fam," I said to Connie as I headed out the door.

It was getting later in the afternoon, and I was starting to feel depressed. This was _far_ from the ideal birthday situation. I'm not gonna lie, I was definitely imagining the whole balloons and confetti and blowing out a bazillion candles thing. So far all I got was one lousy snickers bar and a couple of checks that would probably go just far enough to put a Band-Aid on my gushing money problems while allowing for a couple meals from Pino's.

But instead of feeling sorry for myself, I decided to call my best friend, Mary Lou. Surely she wouldn't forget my birthday.

"Hello?" she answered.

"Hey, it's me. How's life?"

"Not bad. You gettin' yourself all gussied up for a big party tonight? Or did you decide to have a quiet night in with one of your panty-melting hotties?"

"Umm…"

"Stephanie Plum! Don't tell me you don't have _any_ plans on your birthday!"

"I didn't remind anyone, and I think they kind of forgot. Life's pretty busy, you know?"

She paused and thought a moment. "You wanna come over and have some margaritas once the kids are in bed?"

Margaritas didn't sound too bad. But there was one thing that sounded even better. "You wouldn't happen to have some birthday cake on hand, would you?"

"Nah. Had to give up a lot of the sweets. Apparently processed sugar gives me migraines."

"No kidding." I probably would have lived with an eternal migraine if that was _my_ diagnosis. Pretty sure there would never come a day when I would willingly give up sweets. Life would be meaningless. I mean seriously, what would you have to look forward to?

"Still wanna come over?"

"Nah. We'll catch up another night. Maybe your hubby will even let you out for a shopping spree or something. Sans kids."

"Sounds heavenly." I thought I heard her sigh. "You sure you're gonna be ok, Steph?"

"Of course! I'll pamper myself with one of those facial kits and rent one of those smutty movies. Cookie dough's in the freezer, and I have a few bags of the movie theater popcorn. Looks like I'm all set for the best night of my life." It sounded really lame when I said it all out loud like that. It was suddenly painfully obvious that I didn't have a life. Birthdays were really sucky days to realize these kinds of harsh realities.

"Well, feel free to pop over if you change your mind. I have a fancy margarita glass here with your name on it."

"Thanks. You're the best. Love you!"

"Happy Birthday, Steph!"

The call dropped, and I drove aimlessly along the streets of Trenton for a while, not really interested in heading home just yet. I stopped for a milkshake then passed a familiar seven-story nondescript brick building. I did a mental sigh. _He_ wouldn't have forgotten it was my birthday today. But _he_ is also a ninja assassin-or something in that general ballpark-who just so happens to be on an away mission.

This _he_ that I keep referring to is Ricardo Carlos Manoso, mostly known around these parts by his street name, Ranger. And he's the ultimate man of mystery. He also just so happens to be my mentor of sorts and overall a very good friend. On his down time when he isn't ridding the world of evil and overthrowing small dictatorships under the radar, he co-owns and manages a security company that claims that brick nondescript building as headquarters. Rangeman. Their clientele is typically high-end and mostly reputable. Although Ranger doesn't usually mind working within some of the grayer areas of the law.

So if you're busy with all of that, you obviously need a side hobby, right? Yeah, not really. But Ranger has one anyway. It's making sure that I stay safe. On the surface, it sounds like a pretty casual hobby. But the local news stories and assorted rumors from the neighborhood gossip mills can attest to the fact that I'm kind of a magnet for disaster. My cars usually wind up totaled or exploded, and I've been shot at, firebombed, and even tossed off a bridge. And sometimes that can all happen over the course of a week. Not even kidding. I think it's pretty safe to say that I keep Ranger on his toes with this little hobby of his.

Oh, and I may have forgotten to mention one little teensy thing about Ranger. He's hot. And I don't just mean good-looking hot. I mean melt-your-clothes-off-with-one-look kind of hot. He's got that sexy, smoldering stare thing down to a science, and he often has it focused on me. Go figure, right?

Guess we kind of have a history of sorts. But I've never really been so sure about a future. Ranger's still trying to atone for a dark past, and he claims he doesn't want any emotional attachments as he goes about all his atonement business. But I'm still kind of emotionally attached anyway.

Ranger also has this rather annoying habit of making my bad days better. It's usually just simple stuff like an arm slung over my shoulder or a quick "proud of you, babe" before grabbing a bite to eat. Maybe a sneaky mind-numbing kiss if I'm lucky. He'd probably know just the thing to make this crummy birthday better, which is partly why I'm so bummed. If there was just one person I could celebrate today with, I'd really want it to be him.

And he's probably a million miles away right now. Sure saving the world is a pretty noble reason to miss someone's birthday, but still. Guess I'm a little selfish that way. So sue me.

I finally made it back to my apartment, and everything was just as I'd left it that morning. No party streamers, no balloons, and no surprise birthday cake waiting for me in the fridge. I heard some rhythmic squeaking coming from the habitat on my counter top. My pet hamster, Rex, was trying to set a new personal best on his hamster wheel.

"Rex," I said as I grabbed a beer from the fridge. "You might be a phenomenal listener, and you've been great about not complaining about having me for a roommate, but you throw the absolute _worst_ surprise parties. I mean, seriously, who decorates a living room with piles of dirty laundry? And the guest list? It's lookin' kinda sparse here, buddy. I expect a much bigger effort next year, got it?"

Rex paused his running for a moment to glance up at me. There was unmistakable pity in those beady, little hamster eyes. They were the final nail in the disaster birthday coffin.

One large crocodile tear rolled down my cheek. By the time it splashed on my arm, I was already in full blown meltdown mode. Hysterical sobbing, incoherent babbling, blotchy skin, running nose. I was a mess!

Thankfully a knock at my door interrupted my wallow fest in self-pity. I dabbed at my eyes and tried to slap on a smile. Someone was finally here to wish me a happy birthday!

Then I opened the door to my mother. It took all my willpower to keep a major frown from crossing my face. That is, until I saw the cake. God bless my mother! The woman who had given me life was now giving me birthday cake. _Chocolate_ birthday cake. With sprinkles.

I hugged the crap out of her while trying to keep my hormonal tears at bay. "Thanks for the cake, Mom. Want to come in for a while and have a slice?"

My mother poked her head inside the apartment and frowned. "I don't want to intrude on any of your birthday plans. We'll do your family birthday dinner on Friday when you normally come by. I just wanted you to know that I was thinking of you today." She gave a small smile. "You were one hell of a labor, kid."

I rolled my eyes. "Thanks."

She hugged me again. "Happy birthday, Sweetheart. See you Friday."

I walked her to the elevator then made my way back to my empty apartment. Oh well, at least now I had some birthday cake. And if I could scrounge up some candles from somewhere, I could even have one birthday wish.

The next several minutes were spent ransacking the apartment. Turns out I don't keep a healthy stock of birthday candles on hand. Not sure why, but whatever. I _did_ manage to find some scented candles that I had hoped to use to lure a handsome man into my bedroom. It was kind of disappointing that they'd never been used.

I plunked them in my cake, and lit them hoping that the birthday fairy would politely ignore the fact that they weren't _official_ birthday candles. Maybe she'd just let it slide this time. After all, candles are candles, right?

I closed my eyes tight and thought up the perfect birthday wish. Then I took in a deep breath and held it. Now was the moment of truth. If I managed to blow out all those dancing flames, I'd get my birthday wish. If I somehow managed to screw _this_ up, it would officially be the worst birthday ever. I had to admit, I was getting kind of nervous with the stakes being so high.

So I huffed and I puffed and I blew out those candles. To my relief, every single last one of those scented hunks of wax turned to little smoking sticks that I quickly tossed in the kitchen sink and doused with water to make sure they didn't set off the smoke detector. I grabbed a fork and plate before making my way back to the cake. As I turned the corner I stopped dead in my tracks.

The plate crashed to the floor when I realized who was now standing in my living room. He looked a little worse for wear; a few new scrapes and bruises, some obvious sleep deprivation through the eyes, but he was definitely here. In my apartment. I decided the birthday fairy deserved a big, fat raise for this one.

Ranger handed me a small gift bag. "Sorry I'm late. Happy birthday, babe."

I knew he wouldn't forget my special day! As I rooted around in the tissue paper, he snuck a glance over at the cake with a cloud of residual smoke still lingering in the air.

"What did you wish for?" he asked as an amused twitch of a smile crossed his face.

I shook my head and grinned. "You know the rules. I can't tell." Besides, if I told, there was a good chance he'd probably disappear.

 _Happy Birthday Stephanie Plum! Here's to another year of crazy shenanigans and getting your priorities all worked out._


End file.
